


D4: Haven

by PuzzledHats



Series: AxG Week 2013 [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzzledHats/pseuds/PuzzledHats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The treehouse had always been their refuge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	D4: Haven

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive any technical errors, misplaced words or spelling mistakes. Haven was the last story I wrote for AxG week so my beta never got the chance to go through and clean it up.

Arya had been the one to insist on the treehouse having no roof. Even at nine, knowing the six foot tall ceiling would never work for Gendry in the long run.  
  
“You’re five foot eleven at fourteen years old,” she had said, her tone dripping with condescension. “This is going to be our treehouse forever. It has to be big enough for you.”  
  
After much arguing, they had finally agreed upon raising the roof five inches and only covering the platform half way, leaving the rest exposed to the sun.  
  
“Like a sun deck. It will be great for tanning,” Sansa had said cheerily, which had left both Arya and Gendry rolling their eyes.  
  
It had initially been a treehouse for everyone, but Arya and Gendry always ran the show. Eventually becoming the only two people to use it. Even after Gendry had grown up, long past the treehouse phase of his life, he still used it. Sometimes to do homework or play video games on his tablet; mostly just to get away from the non-stop fighting of his mother and whoever her boyfriend happened to be at the time.  
  
As Arya grew, she continued to see the beauty in it too. Being able to get away to the quiet woods that lined the back of the Stark property, a place where she was rarely bugged by her extensive family. Bran’s injury brought a whole new strain on the Starks, causing Arya to spend more time at the treehouse. Away from the pitying looks, the crying and on occasion from Bran, the cursing. Gendry and Arya could spend hours there with out even speaking to the other. They both understood the sacredness of their tiny treehouse refuge; that in an often an unfair world, the safety of their treehouse was rare.  
  
It had been Gendry who had pointed out to a fifteen year old Arya that the treehouse was a great place for a make-out session, after she mentioned dating Edric Dayne.  
  
“You’ve made-out with girls in our treehouse?” She asked, a little put off. It was their sanctuary, not anyone else’s.  
  
“Trust me,” he had said with only a smile. “You’ll thank me for that advice later.”  
  
And she had, shortly after she turned eighteen and had lost her virginity to Jaqen, using the privacy of the treehouse so as not to be harassed by any annoying brothers.  
  
“Ugh. Arya, I do not want to know about your sexual conquests,” he had said in disgust. “Although that does explain all the pillows and blankets. I thought maybe you were going Thoreau on me.”  
  
It had been the treehouse where Gendry had come upon Arya using the ‘sun deck’ the summer after her freshman year in college, in an all too skimpy bikini. Arya hadn’t missed the way he looked at her differently after that, only too pleased with herself.  
  
Neither of them had been surprised to find themselves ripping each other’s clothes off the following year, as summer rain leaked through the faulty roof. Giving in to the attraction neither of them felt like denying any more. Their bodies coming together in an erratic rhythm.  
  
“This treehouse was the best thing we ever built,” he whispered in her ear as she panted beneath him.  
  
The treehouse took an a whole new meaning after that. They spent countless lazy days and heated nights in each other’s arms. Exploring the new side of their relationship with vigor. It was the first place they felt truly comfortable together. The first place they whispered they loved each other. Their haven in a crazy mixed up world, always the place they could find solace.  
  
After Arya graduated from college, they moved in together; only visiting the treehouse to get a break from her family during holiday meals.  
  
When Gendry got the call from Jon that Ned Stark had died in a terrible accident and no one could find Arya; he knew just where to look.  
  
“Does she know about Ned?” Gendry asked, as he ran out the door toward his car.  
  
“I told her an hour ago. She said she would call you and meet me at the hospital,” Jon said, distraught. “But we haven’t seen her. I’m worried.”  
  
“Don't worry, I know just where she is,” Gendry reassured him.  
  
He called her name when he finally reached the base of the tree, but heard nothing in response. He climbed the ladder quickly, scared of what he might find.  Arya sat in the fetal position, her eyes blank unregistering his presence. He said her name again but nothing about her acknowledged that she heard.  
  
He sat down beside her, not hesitating to pull her in to his lap; holding her as if she was a small child. He whispered nonsensical words in to her hair, occasionally dropping kisses on to her forehead and hair.  
  
Gendry was beginning to wonder if he could ever reach her again, when he felt her hands suddenly tighten around his neck. She silently shook, soaking his t-shirt in her tears, never letting a single sound escape her lips. He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, before she finally raised her eyes. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, but her lips held the slightest sad smile.  
  
“I’m ready now,” she said.  
  
He nodded, helping her to her feet, following her back to the ground. He grabbed her hand then, not letting it go if he could help it. He held it while they waited at the hospital, when she viewed the body, as the family gathered at Stark manor to mourn, through the funeral. And afterword when she dragged him away from the Stark house, to their treehouse in the woods. He held her hand and her whole body as she shed tears for the second time. Eventually the tears stopped, he felt her mouth kissing his neck, sucking slightly on a tender spot, pulling a moan from his throat.  
  
“Please,” she whispered. “I just want to feel something good.”  
  
He gave her everything he had, all that he could give to make her feel better, feel whole, feel loved. He used his extensive knowledge of her body, of her pressure points, of her most sensitive places to draw out every ounce of pleasure he could. He counted on their countless good memories in the treehouse to somehow infuse themselves on to her psyche, to some how make her remember there was still good in the world; they could still find happiness  
  
They still had each other and they still had the treehouse. They could get through anything.


End file.
